<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Just Think Of Me (As The Pages In Your Diary) by Arboreal</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691130">Just Think Of Me (As The Pages In Your Diary)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arboreal/pseuds/Arboreal'>Arboreal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Corin's Audio Diary AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:33:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,952</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arboreal/pseuds/Arboreal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiding out in an abandoned Imperial outpost, Din and the child find audio files left by a stormtrooper who used to be stationed there.  As the harsh winter winds rage outside, this Corin's ramblings become a friendly voice during the lonely nights.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Corin's Audio Diary AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>399</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from Diary by Alicia Keys.</p>
<p>A big thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls">dls</a> for beta-ing.</p>
<p>Another big thank you to the angst-mobil chat on the Mandorin Discord server!</p>
<p>And of course, thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina">LadyIrina</a> for creating Corin and letting us play in their sandbox.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Din gingerly flew the Razor Crest low over the snow-covered terrain of the planet, keeping a careful eye on the glitching scanners as he did.  That interference, a product of the planet’s wildly erratic magnetic field interacting with the radiation from the nearby sun and surrounding nebula, should be enough to hide the Razor Crest from anyone trying to track him and the child, but it was also making it difficult for Din to find an appropriate place to land.</p>
<p>The struggling electronics finally lit up with some helpful data and soon the ship was skimming over a long-abandoned Imperial base.  According to one of the old-timers from the mining planet of Abafar, grateful to Din for helping to repel an incursion by pirates, this base once controlled the hyperlanes of this entire region of the Outer Rim.  After its defeat at Endor, many of the Empire’s strongholds like this had been abandoned and the harsh winters of the planet coupled with the constant electromagnetic interference had discouraged anyone else from trying to settle here.  The planet had eventually been forgotten by most.</p>
<p>The base itself was still too exposed for what Din had in mind, too hard to secure for the oncoming winter.  After several more hours of searching, though, Din finally found what he was looking for in a small, two-man outpost nearly a hundred miles from the long-abandoned Imperial base it had once stood sentry for.  Perfect.  The interference would mask their presence from anyone with a tracking fob, and even if some industrious bounty hunter did happen upon the planet, this small structure would be completely overlooked in favor of the base itself or one of the larger outposts.</p>
<p>Din set the ship down near the small outpost and shut down the engines.  Turning to look at the modified seat behind him, he smiled beneath his helmet to see the child looking out the forward viewport in fascination, its ears perked up in interest.</p>
<p>“What do you think, Womp Rat?  Does it look like a promising place to lay low for a while?”</p>
<p>The child blinked at the sound of his voice before smiling, lifting its arms up to be held.</p>
<p>Din snorted.  “I guess that’s a ringing endorsement.”  He stood up and released the child from its restraints, holding it gently to his chest.  “Why don’t we check the place out, see what we have to work with?”  He smiled again when the child cooed in response.</p>
<p>Child in one arm, Din climbed down to the cargo hold and pulled out the child carrier he had put together from some scrap fabric.  He bundled up his small charge against the cold temperatures outside before setting the child down to do the same for himself.  He picked the child up to place him snugly in the carrier, then strapped the carrier to his back.  Opening the bay door, he stepped out into the frozen landscape.</p>
<p>The snow crunched beneath his boots as he left the ship and walked in the direction of the small outpost.  Towards the east lay a flat expanse of white stretching as far as the eye could see.  To the north and west was a dense pine forest with a hazy mountain range rising in the distance.  Everything was still and hushed, a clear blue sky above them.  From the stories the old-timer had told, Din knew this was a rare break in the winter weather and he wasted no time in making his way to the outpost.</p>
<p>Approaching the building, Din made note of the radar dish and other equipment necessary for monitoring the surrounding land and airspace.  That would be useful if he could get it working.  Once he reached the outpost, he was pleasantly surprised to find the building in good repair and the electronic lock to the door still functional.  It was the work of minutes to slice into the old Imperial codes and open the door, but with a few additions the lock could be made much more secure.  Something to consider once basic necessities had been met.</p>
<p>Din turned switched on his glowlamp and, pulling out his blaster, stepped carefully into the dark building.  The child made an inquiring noise from where it was strapped to his back, and Din gently hushed it before shining the glowlamp’s light around the interior.  The room was fairly large, about the size of the cargo hold of the Razor Crest.  The wall to his right contained electronics and a console that must have run the monitoring equipment Din had seen outside.  To the left was a collection of winter weather gear hanging from hooks and stacked neatly against the wall.  Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust.</p>
<p>In the wall across from him were two metal doors, both without locks.  Din opened one to find a small storage room and pantry, empty of anything edible but filled with equipment and parts that looked promising.  The other door led to a living space containing a set of bunkbeds and a pair of footlockers.  The beds were still made as if their owners planned to return at any moment, but the dust covering the bedclothes told a different story. </p>
<p>Satisfied that no one else was here and the small outpost had been abandoned for some time, Din put his blaster away.  “Looks like we’ve got a place to bunk down for a while,” he said, shifting the child carrier higher onto his shoulders to the delighted giggles of his tiny passenger.  “Let’s see what we can do about getting some light and heat going, huh, Kiddo?”</p>
<p>Din left the living quarters and walked back through the main room, taking a moment as he stepped outside to let the viewscreen of his helmet adjust from the dim interior of the outpost to the blinding glare of the snow-covered landscape.  He circled the building until he found what he was looking for, a generator of standard Imperial design partially covered by snow.  Clearing the snow, he was pleased to see there was no obvious signs of deterioration despite having been neglected for several years.  The fuel tank was empty but that was an easy fix.  As long as he could get the generator working, they had enough fuel and supplies in the Razor Crest to last them through the winter months on this planet before they would need to move on.</p>
<p>After checking on his small charge, who seemed warm enough for now and content to study their new surroundings from its perch on Din’s back, Din retrieved a fuel canister and tools from the ship.  The repairs were minor and quickly finished, and it wasn’t long before the generator was humming away. </p>
<p>Din entered the outpost again and the building seemed much more welcoming this time, each room lit brightly and the air already starting to warm.  He took the covers off the bottom bunk and shook the dust off the best he could before taking the child out of his carrier and outer layers and wrapping it snugly in the blanket.  He handed it a piece of jerky and ran a hand over the child’s head as it started demolishing its meal.</p>
<p>“It’s like I never feed you,” he said with a grin, gently tweaking one the child’s large ears.  “I need to start moving our supplies from the ship before it gets dark.  Stay here, Goblin.  Right here.  Don’t go wandering off.”  He made his voice as stern as possible, but as he expected all that earned him was an innocent look and a twitch of its ears as it continued eating.  Din sighed before giving the child’s head a final pat and heading out. At least there wasn’t much trouble the child could get into in the nearly empty outpost.</p>
<p>He’d made a good start at transferring their provisions from the Razor Crest when the planet’s sun began to dip below the horizon.  Sealing the ship and returning to the outpost, he locked the outer door behind him and began removing the heavy outer layers he was wearing over the armor.</p>
<p>“Are you where I left you, Womp Rat?” he called out as he hung up the last piece.  A muffled giggle came from the living quarters.  Din just rolled his eyes when he opened the door to see the blanket nest on the bottom bunk was empty.</p>
<p>Another giggle sounded from the foot of the bed and Din saw the lid of one of the previously locked footlockers was open.  He walked over to look in and couldn’t help a small laugh at seeing the child grinning up at him, half buried in a pile of clothes.</p>
<p>“What are you doing there, you little hellion?” he asked, removing a sock that was hanging off a green ear and picking the child up out of the mess.  He sat cross legged in front of the open footlocker and set the child down on his lap, letting the child stand up to peer over the edge of the container. </p>
<p>“Anything useful?” he asked, leaning over the child to sort through the footlocker’s contents.  There were a couple changes of clothing that were now in disarray; Din pulled those out, pleased to see they would probably fit him with some simple alterations.  Below them were a few of books, each of which looked well read.  He opened one to find what appeared to be a set of poems written in Aurebesh.  He flipped through a few pages before coming across an inscription in the front cover.</p>
<p>
  <em>My dearest Corin, remember beautiful words can create beautiful worlds.  Love, Mom.</em>
</p>
<p>Din quickly shut the book.  The child looked up at him, making a worried sound, but he just shook his head.  “It’s nothing,” he said roughly and quickly set the books to the side.</p>
<p>After a steadying breath, Din reached back into the footlocker to pull out a shaving kit and a few other toiletries.  Nothing he didn’t already have, but they might prove useful.  Beneath that was a pair of knitting needles and a small piece of knitted fabric a few inches wide and about two feet long made from a soft lilac yarn.  The child made an interested noise, reaching for the dangling fabric and cooing happily as it played with the soft material when Din handed it over.</p>
<p>The last items in the footlocker, hidden at the very bottom, were a couple chocolate bars and a single datapad.</p>
<p>He pulled out the chocolate bars first and huffed out a breath of laughter when the child’s ears immediately perked up.  “Later, you little rancor,” he said, carefully putting the chocolate where the child couldn’t reach without using one of its <em>jetti</em> tricks.</p>
<p>Din then picked up the datapad and turned it over in his hands before turning it on to look through its directory.  He frowned when all he found was a series of audio files dated almost five standard years ago.  Curious, he selected the first one and set it to play.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hey.  Um … so, no one else is ever going to listen to this, but since I’m left to talk to myself anyway I figure I might as well record this.  That’s kind of like talking to someone else, right?  It’s been a week since Trip was ordered back to base and took our only snow speeder with him.  Hopefully they’ll send his replacement out soon.  Knowing Commander Horne, though, he’ll probably leave me to stew on my own in isolation until I go batty and he can give me another reprimand.  I don’t know why he’s had it out for me since I arrived at Choivun Base, I’m just another snow trooper.  I mean— ”</em>
</p>
<p>Din shut the datapad off with a snort before tossing it back into the footlocker.  He put the knitting needles, books, shaving kit, and clothes back in as well before closing the lid, only leaving out the chocolate for now.  He pulled the second footlocker to him and picked the lock, but when he opened the lid he found the footlocker empty.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A big thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls">dls</a> for beta-ing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Din woke up the following morning to find the temperature outside had fallen and the wind had begun to pick up.  It was still only a light breeze for now, hardly enough to disturb the top-most branches of the tall pine trees nearby, but Din was sure it was a portent of things to come.</p>
<p>He got himself ready for the day and ate his own breakfast before waking the child and repeating the routine for the little one.</p>
<p>“I need to move the rest of our supplies from the ship before a storm hits.  Do you want to come with me, or stay here?” he asked, wiping the remnants of the child’s breakfast from its face.  He still wasn’t entirely sure how much it understood.  After the Armorer had named the child a foundling in Din’s care, though, his own clan of two, Din had made an effort to speak to it more in a mix of Mando’a and Basic.  Teach it what he could, despite his own taciturn nature.  The child appeared to be learning.  At least, it did until it was feeling playful or mischievous, then it seemed to develop a sudden selective lack of comprehension.  He remembered enough of his own foundling days, though, that he figured that was to be expected.</p>
<p>The child tilted its head a moment, as if considering the question, before raising its arms in a familiar gesture.</p>
<p>“Alright, guess I’m playing tauntaun today,” he said, rubbing his knuckles over the child’s head in a light noogie and smiling at the child’s laughter.  He picked up the child and made quick work of getting them ready for the cold before making the trip back to the Razor Crest, the child once again on his back.  Outside the shelter of the outpost he could hear the breeze moving softly through the trees.</p>
<p>The first thing he did when they reached the ship was climb up to the cockpit and check the ship’s scanners.  Despite the glitchy electronics, Din could make out a large storm headed in their direction.  Just what he was afraid of.  He wasted little time climbing back to the cargo hold and putting together a load of supplies to take on their return trip to the outpost.</p>
<p>By midmorning, the breeze had strengthened to become a steady, driving wind and Din could see a dark line of clouds approaching from the east.  They were just finishing their third trip from the Razor Crest when Din felt the child begin to shiver.</p>
<p>“Time to get you inside, Kiddo.”</p>
<p>As he had done the day before, Din removed the child’s heavy outer clothing when they got inside and wrapped it in covers from the living quarters.  Now, though, instead cheerful and inquisitive, the child watched Din with wide, anxious eyes, ears held low and quivering, hands clutching the blanket.  It flinched when an especially strong gust of wind howled through the trees and around the small building.  Something in Din’s chest hurt at the sight and it struck him then that the child may never have seen a storm before.  The planet where Din had found the child, Arvala-7, had little weather to speak of, and he had no idea where it might have been held before that.</p>
<p>Din reached for the bag of the child’s toys and rooted around until he found the child’s favorite, a stuffed animal in the shape of a brown and gray Corellian frog.  The child reached for the toy and hugged it tightly to its chest.</p>
<p>“I know it’s loud, Little One,” he said in a soothing tone, “but it’s just the wind.  It can’t hurt you in here.”  When the child’s only response was a frightened warble, Din lowered himself onto a knee beside the bottom bunk so he was eye level to the child.  “I swear it, Ad’ika, you’re safe.  You don’t need to be scared.”</p>
<p>The child looked at him uncertainly for a moment before making another low warble and climbing out of his nest of blankets, still holding its stuffed frog in one arm, to toddle determinedly to the edge of the bed and reach out to Din.  Picking up the child and holding it gently to his chest, his heart broke as the small body continued to tremble. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Ad’ika, but I need to go out one last time to batten down the ship before the storm arrives.  I won’t be long, alright?”  The child didn’t respond, but it allowed itself to be set down on the bed and wrapped in blankets again where Din made sure to tuck the stuffed frog securely in with the child.  When Din stepped back, the child’s dark eyes watched him apprehensively from its nest.  Din wavered for a moment before turning around and walking back into the cold.</p>
<p>Din made quick work of getting back to the Razor Crest and preparing it for the oncoming storm.  He considered trying to move the last of their provisions before sealing the ship, but quickly decided against it.  They had more than enough supplies already in the small outpost.  It was more important to get back to the child.</p>
<p>He was glad of that decision when snow began to fall on his way back, dancing in swirling patterns around him in the blowing wind.  When he reached the outpost, he quickly shed his outer layers and rushed into the living quarters, relieved to see the child still in its nest.  Removing his beskar armor, he climbed onto the bottom bunk and pulled the shaking child onto his lap.</p>
<p>“Hush, Little One.  Hush.  It’s all going to be alright.” </p>
<p>They stayed like that for a long time, listening to the shrieking wind as it grew louder through the late afternoon and into the night, sometimes accompanied by the sound of branches breaking in the nearby forest.  Din kept talking, since that seemed to help, telling the child about the covert, and his own time as a foundling, and some highly edited stories about places he’d been and things he had seen and done.  At one point he tried to get the child to eat but it refused the food he prepared, turning away and curling tighter into Din’s side.</p>
<p>Eventually Din’s voice grew hoarse.  He had spoken more in one sitting than he probably had in his entire adult life.  Every time he stopped, though, the child made quavering trills, looking up at him with fearful eyes, and Din forced himself to continue.  Just as Din was reaching the point where he didn’t think he’d be able to say another word, he remembered the stormtrooper’s datapad from the day before. </p>
<p>He retrieved the datapad and returned to the bunk, pulling the shivering child back into his lap and then starting the first recording again. </p>
<p>
  <em>“Hey.  Um … so, no one else is ever going to listen to this, but since I’m left to talk to myself anyway I figure I might as well record this.  That’s kind of like talking to someone else, right?  It’s been a week since Trip…”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The child’s ears perked up slightly at the new voice and it peeked out from the safety of Din’s arms before snuggling back into his hold.  The child must have found the stormtrooper’s voice comforting, though, because when the first recording ended became fretful again until Din had started the next one, and then the one after that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“So the guy running the comm station at Choivun Base last night said not to expect Trip’s replacement anytime soon.  Commander Horne is on a tear, he said.  The rebels have been causing trouble for the higher ups, apparently, and their bad mood has been trickling down to the commander, who had been only too happy to spread the bad luck around.  Probably better not to remind him of my existence right now…"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Another big storm came through over the last few days.  Man, the wind gets loud.  I didn’t mind the big storms so much when Trip was out here.  But the crazy interference always gets worse during the bad storms and I can’t even contact the base for my scheduled check-ins.  That’s when I really feel alone.  It feels like I’m the only sentient left in the universe.  I’m so glad the radar dish for this outpost seems to be holding up alright, because I do not want to try repair that thing by myself if the wind brought it crashing down…”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hey, that same guy was on the night shift on the comm station again.  Michael, he said his name was.  I like him, he doesn’t mind giving me the base gossip before signing off.  He’s probably not supposed to do that, but I think he gets how lonely it is out here…”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Slowly the wind outside died down and the child started to relax, eyes beginning to blink sleepily.  Din stretched out on the bed, laying the child against his chest and curling a careful arm around it.  With the other hand he set the datapad to continue playing and, as the first rays of morning peeked out behind the lightening clouds, let the soft, friendly voice lull them both to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter warnings in end notes</p>
<p>A big thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls">dls</a> for beta-ing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Din woke up midmorning, the stormtrooper’s voice still rambling from the datapad’s speaker.  He turned it off and levered himself out of the bunk, careful to not wake the child, and then just stood there blinking blearily while he willed the fog away from his tired mind.  The temptation to lie back down to catch a few more hours of sleep and ignore all the work he needed to do was strong.  In the end, though, he just sighed and headed to the refresher. </p>
<p>Cleaned and dressed, he sorted through the winter gear in the main room until he found a pair of snowshoes and a shovel.  The sky was still overcast when he stepped outside, the landscape strangely hushed except for distant birdsong coming from the heavily snow-burdened trees of the forest.  A foot and a half of soft, fresh-fallen snow covering the ground.    Deceptively peaceful, only the deep snowdrifts hinted at the tremendous violence of the storm the night before. </p>
<p>Turning away from his study of the terrain, he set to work shoveling out an area in front of the outpost door, then circled the building to clear the snow from the generator and turn it off long enough to refuel the tank.  After stowing the fuel canister back in the outpost, he strapped on the snowshoes and ventured out to the ship.</p>
<p>Clearing the Razor Crest of snow was a bigger job.  Snow completely covered parts of the ship where large drifts had accumulated, and by the time Din was finished he was regretting his plan to spend an entire season on the winter side of planet.  Still, the ship seemed to have weathered the storm without trouble.  When he sat down in the pilot’s seat with a sigh to check the scanners, he was also pleased to see that there didn’t appear to be another large storm heading their way for at least a few days.</p>
<p>The child had begun to stir by the time Din returned to the outpost.  It was in much better spirits now, eagerly consuming a meal of porridge and dried fruit and giggling as it got underfoot while Din tried to sort their supplies and move them out of the main room and into the pantry and storage room.</p>
<p>“All right, Womp Rat,” Din said in exasperation the third time the child had knocked over a stack of provisions Din had just finished sorting.  “You need to burn off some of that energy.  Come on, Trouble Maker.” </p>
<p>He picked up the child and carried it under his arm, much to the child’s delight.  Bundling them both up warmly, he brought the child outside and held it in the crook of his arm as he picked up a handful of the soft snow.  The child looked at it with interest when Din held it out.</p>
<p>“Cin’ciri.  Snow.  This is what the storm last night brought.”</p>
<p>The child looked up at him, ears held high, then turned back to the handful of snow and reached out curiously.  It let out a startled noise when it realized the snow was cold but was soon using both clawed hands to dig into the powdery material with obvious enjoyment.</p>
<p>Din let the child play for a minute before dropping the remaining snow from his hand.  At the disappointed coo from the child, Din snorted and stepped out of the area he had cleared earlier and into the deep snow surrounding the outpost.</p>
<p>“Plenty more where that came from, Kiddo,” he said, setting the child in the snow beside him where it sunk a few inches to its knees.  It immediately crouched down, patting the soft material in excitement, then stood up and started running through the snow as fast as its little legs could carry it.  Din kept pace easily. </p>
<p>After they had made a couple of circuits in front of the outpost, Din ducked inside to grab the sled he had used to move some of their supplies.  The child was only too happy to be pulled around the snowy field for a while, and its joy knew no bounds when Din brought them to the top of a small hill then let it slide down the gentle incline. </p>
<p>They continued like that until the child finally started to flag.  Din carried the child back into the outpost then, dressing them both in dry clothes and feeding the child a late lunch of warm bantha-meat broth.</p>
<p>When the child started to yawn, he moved the child into the living quarters for a nap and laid it onto the bottom bunk with its stuffed frog.  He picked up the stormtrooper’s datapad from where it was still lying on the bed, intending to put it back with the rest of the belongings in the footlocker, but the child made an unhappy sound, reaching for the datapad.  Din handed it over, curious what the child wanted with it, but the child only clutched at it a moment before huffing and holding the datapad back out for Din to take.</p>
<p>It promptly whined when Din took the datapad away.  He sighed, looking between the datapad and the child who was once again reaching out for the device.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to do something with it?” he asked before a thought occurred to him.  “Do you want to listen to the recordings?”</p>
<p>The child brightened at that, so Din shrugged and selected the audio file that had been playing when they fell asleep.  Immediately the good-humored voice of the stormtrooper filled the room.  Din didn’t know how this guy could be so cheerful after being left to fend for himself in the middle of nowhere, but he could admit the trooper had a pleasant voice.  The child cooed happily and was soon drifting off to sleep.</p>
<p>The afternoon was peaceful for a while after that.  Not wanting to wake the child, Din decided against moving more of their supplies into the storage room.  Instead he quietly pulled out some of his interface electronics to try to get the outpost’s surveillance equipment working, sitting down at the console in the main room and booting up the out-of-date computer to see what he had to work with.</p>
<p>The first thing he encountered was a security program much more sophisticated than the one that had been in the electronic lock to the outpost.  It said something despicable about the Empire that it protected its computer systems this much more diligently than it did its people.  He thought of the stormtrooper from the audio files, out here alone and a hundred miles from reinforcements with only a kriffing bare-bones security lock to protect him, the Empire about to fall around his ears.  Not a good situation to be in.</p>
<p>Eventually Din sliced his way into the surveillance systems, finding to his satisfaction that much of the equipment was still in order.  One screen displayed readings from motion sensors installed in the surrounding area, about a third of which still seemed to be working.  Another screen showed a similar number of working visual and thermal imaging cameras.  Better than he expected.  There was no orbital scanning equipment at this small outpost, that had probably been handled by the main base, or satellites considering the planet’s electronic interference, but there were both airship and weather surveillance radar that would give Din some warning if any type of trouble was headed their way.  All of these would probably malfunction during the worst of the winter storms, if what the stormtrooper had said in the recordings was true.  Still, it would all prove useful.</p>
<p>Throughout all this, Din could hear the recordings of the stormtrooper playing.  Simple recountings of his days, the trooper chatted idly about the volatile weather, tedious duties, unappetizing rations, and humorous bits of base gossip passed along by the friendly communications specialist.  Din was listening with half an ear, amused despite himself, when the tone of the recordings suddenly changed.  He stopped what he was doing to listen more closely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“… not really important.  I guess I don’t have much to say.  It’s just … it would have been my mom’s birthday today.  There would always a big party the night of her birthday, a bunch of people Mom had to make nice with for my dad’s sake, but she and I would go out the morning before, just the two of us, to this little bookstore she loved and she’d buy us about a dozen books.  Fun books, adventures stories and mysteries and historical novels.  All sorts.  It was the one day of the year Dad wouldn’t complain about them being ‘useless drivel’.  She always took full advantage of that.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Mom loved to read.  She’s the one who taught me how.  I keep forgetting things, like her eye color or how she wore her hair, but I’ll never forget listening to her read to me.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The stormtrooper went silent, and Din thought that was the end of the recording, but then the voice returned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Dad got rid of most of her books after she died.  Said the space could be better used for something else.  A few of the ones she gave me I was able to hide, a book of poems and a couple of our favorite stories.  I’ve read them so many times by now I could just about recite them from heart.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Another quiet moment before the stormtrooper softly continued.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Go Now,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Those two words shut a door</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Between me and the blessed rain</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>That was never shut before</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And will not open again.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>…Miss you, Mom.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The recording ended, followed a few seconds later another recording, this time in the stormtrooper’s usual bright an animated voice exclaiming that the comm specialist had snuck a few chocolate bars for him into the last supply shipment.  Din stood up to turn off the datapad.  He’d heard enough for one day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The death of Corin's mother is mentioned in this chapter.</p>
<p>The poem excerpt is from "Go Now" by Edward Thomas</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A big thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls">dls</a> for beta-ing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After a few days to get settled, life at the outpost began to take on a rhythm.  Din would wake first and enjoy an hour or so of peace while he ate breakfast and spent some time training.  The child was usually ready to be roused and fed by then, Din as always felt a wave of affection and amusement as he watched the drooping ears of the still-waking child slowly inch higher and higher while it gobbled its breakfast. </p>
<p>When the child was fully awake, Din had taken to deciding on a lesson for the day.  Sometimes they would take out the paper and colored chalks they had picked up a few planets ago and Din would work on teaching the child its colors.  Other times Din would draw a shape and name it in Basic and Mando’a and the two of them would sort through their supplies trying to find things that matched that shape.  Din might dig out a handful of bolts and they would count out different numbers of them into piles, or they might wander the forest for a time while Din asked the child to point out things that a big or small, near or far, high or low.</p>
<p>With the stormtrooper’s recording about his mother in mind, Din took some time to begin to teach the child to read.  He started by pointing out words written on items around the outpost and reading them off.  The cannister of grains for the child’s porridge, the instructions on pieces of equipment, the labels above switches and indicator lights on the monitoring console. It didn’t take long for Din to become frustrated that the vast majority of items he had in the outpost were written in Aurebesh.  Until Din found the child’s people it was Din’s to raise, and that meant learning his language as well.  Determined, Din began to write labels in Mando’a on strips of paper and securing them all over the outpost. </p>
<p>Later Din took a sheet of the child’s paper and wrote Aurebesh and Mando’a letters, adding one of each every day, and they would sit side-by-side on the floor copying the letters and with the colored chalks.  Din was no artist, but he did his best to add pictures, sounding out the words that began with each letter.</p>
<p>He looked around the small building sometimes with its bits of paper stuck everywhere, chalk all over the floor, and the child’s toys and artwork scattered around and felt a bit ridiculous.  The Guild members would have laughed themselves breathless to see the fearsome Mando in such a state.  He didn’t let the feeling of embarrassment stop him, though.  Bringing in bounties had always brought him a sense of satisfaction, pitting his ability and skill against an opponent trying their best to outrun and outsmart him, and coming out on top and providing his earnings to help support the covert.   But every time the child learned something new, could count out the right number of bolts or point at something that had the right shape, Din felt a swell of pride and accomplishment that rivaled any bounty he had ever brought in.</p>
<p>Din wondered what the lonely stormtrooper would have made of all this.  Of Din’s small clan of two making a home where the man had once lived and worked.  The stormtrooper seemed softhearted; Din thought the child would have won him over easily.  A Mandalorian in full beskar armor he probably wouldn’t have taken to quite so well.  Din smiled every time he imagined just appearing at the door of the outpost and scaring the poor guy witless.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“… some needles and yarn that someone stationed here before must have left here by mistake.  I’ve never knitted before, but the gloves some of the guys make look pretty warm and I was bored so I asked Michael to download some instructions from the holonet and transmit them to me when no one was paying attention.  I thought, ‘How hard can it be?’  That was my first mistake.  I’ve had to start over five times so far, and by the Holy Stars there is yarn everywhere!  Michael just laughed at me last night when I told him during my check-in.  I’m going to figure this out, though, just watch.  Then we’ll see who’s laughing.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“At least it’ll give me something to do while I’m stuck in here during the next storm.  Looks like there’s a massive one…”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The child would get restless after lunch and be ready for something more active.  If the weather was cooperative, the two of them would head outside to allow the child a chance to play in the snow and explore the area near the outpost, sometimes walking side-by-side to make the trip to the Razor Crest and back.  If bad weather was threatening, Din would play with the child indoors, chasing the child around the outpost to shrieking laughter or engaging in a carefully monitored game of hide-and-seek, lessons in self-protection hidden in foundlings’ games.</p>
<p>Din would put the child down for a nap after it tired itself out and work on quieter projects for an hour or two, setting up the outpost’s systems to monitor the surrounding area and alarm if something tripped its sensors, or maintaining his own weaponry and equipment.  The child would often fuss until Din set the stormtrooper’s recordings to play, which left Din listening to the idle chatter while the child slept. </p>
<p>Normally, Din didn’t have much patience for listening to people prattle on.  Outside of the covert, people only talked to him when they wanted something.  Tough guys blustered, bounties wheedled, the curious probed, and the greedy bribed.  Din had long since learned to ignore what he could and bluntly rebuff the rest.  If it didn’t have to do with the price on the head of the next target he was sent to track down, he wasn’t interested.</p>
<p>Even within the covert, Din’s taciturn nature kept most of his fellow members at a distance.  Raga, Paz, and Barthor were notable exceptions, but they had all been together since they were foundlings.  There was no getting rid of them now even if he tried.</p>
<p>Listening to the stormtrooper was different.  He seemed to talk just for the sake of talking, because he had thoughts he wanted to share even if the only person he had to share them with was himself.  He wasn’t demanding, wasn’t expecting anything of Din, was just a voice unknowingly sharing space in a lonely outpost with a sleeping child and a Mandalorian five years late. </p>
<p>Sometimes, when the isolation of their current refuge started to get to him, Din would pretend in the that the stormtrooper wasn’t just a stormtrooper but a companion, waiting out the winter with them.  A companion who knew Din hardly talked and didn’t mind, happy to keep up a one-sided conversation as they kept each other company and whiled away the afternoon.</p>
<p>Other times it was impossible to think of the stormtrooper as anything but what he was, an isolated young man desperate for any kind of connection.  He kept his voice upbeat recording after recording, but Din could hear the aching loneliness between the words.  It reminded Din of his travels before the child came into his life.  The silence of space ringing loud in his ears while he flew from one bounty to another and the emptiness around him, the distance between himself and another living being, leaving him feeling uneasy and somehow empty.     </p>
<p>Din considered what might have become of the lonely stormtrooper, whether the young man was still alive somewhere in the galaxy or if he had fallen with the Empire he served.  Whether he was surrounded by friends, or if loneliness was still his only companion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“…have successfully knitted something!  Well, a little of something, anyway.  There wasn’t much yarn to begin with, but I did in fact knit a strip of fabric.  Maybe it could be a scarf for a very tiny person.  It is a very pretty shade of light purple.  I can’t wait for the storm to end and I can check in again and rub it in Michael’s laughing face that I …”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once the child woke from its nap, Din could usually interest it in entertaining itself quietly for a while playing with its toys or drawing.  That left Din with some time to return to his training.  Sometimes the child watched off to the side, following curiously along as Din ran through his open-handed forms.</p>
<p>After dinner Din would find something to amuse the child.  Blanket forts turned out to be popular more often than not.  Taking a blanket off one of the beds, Din would drape it over a few boxes, securing it in place, and watch as the child dragged its toys under the blanket and hid with delighted laughter.  Periodically a pair of bright black eyes would peer out from underneath the blanket, watching whatever Din happened to be doing at the moment, and then would quickly disappear beneath the blanket with another round of giggles when Din looked over.  Somehow the child found that endlessly amusing.</p>
<p>At bedtime Din would bathe the child and then pull one of the books out of the footlocker and read the child to sleep, remembering hazily when his birth parents had read like this to him, and thought about how many times the stormtrooper’s mother had done the same.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“…damaged by the storm.  It’s going to take some work to get the radio receiver up and running again.  Normally I’d just wait for base to send someone out once I missed a few check-ins, but there are more storms coming in and they might just assume it’s the interference messing with communications.  I don’t like the idea of being out here alone with no way …”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some days Din would bundle the child up in its cloth carrier, pull out the snowshoes, and follow one of the trails that lead from the outpost into the surrounding landscape.  The stormtrooper had spoken about the trails when he talked about checking and replacing the various sensors and cameras in the area, and once Din knew to look for them it had been easy to find the trail markings. </p>
<p>Getting out did both Din and the child a world of good when the outpost got to be too small.  It was a relief to put some distance between them and the small building, really stretch his legs, and let the child watch the scenery with wide-eyed interest.  When the sun was high in the sky they would stop somewhere, by a frozen creek or on a small rise that let them look out onto the land around them, and Din would feed the child then let it wander for a bit under his careful supervision.  Then they would pack up their belongings and Din would take them back. </p>
<p>Din’s favorite of the trails led them deep into the forest and wound around a small lake almost hidden by the thick woods.  The stormtrooper talked about ice skating sometimes, an activity Din had seen only once rarely for all his travels.  He wondered if this was the place the stormtrooper had mentioned going.  Din thought of the skaters he had seen on that distant planet, flying across the ice like it took no effort at all, and pictured a young man in white snow gear doing the same.  The features were indistinct but he could imagine a bright smile and the laughter that Din had heard less and less often as the recordings continued.  When he left the lake to return to the outpost it always felt like he was leaving something important behind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“…like I’ve almost got it.  I’ll finally be able to check-in tomorrow after almost a week.  I’m sure Commander Horne will have a new shiny reprimand all ready for me when I finally make contact.  I am wondering why they never sent anyone out to check on me, it took me a lot longer to fix the receiver than I was…”  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The child still hated the storms.  It was never as frightened as the first time, but the child still burrowed miserably into the shelter of his arms when the storms raged outside.  Din couldn’t blame it; at their worst the winds screamed louder than a flock of shriek-hawks. </p>
<p>On those days Din would just curl around the child in the bottom bunk, bury them both under the blankets, and talk to the child until his voice gave out and he switched to the stormtrooper’s audio files.</p>
<p>Late in the season, after the winds of a ferocious storm had almost died out and a drowsy Din was a listening to the stormtrooper’s increasing complaints about the stupid design of Imperial radios, when he heard the stormtrooper say something that made a chill run down his spine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“The receiver is working.  No one from base is answering.”</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I didn't want to leave you all on another cliff hanger, so I'm posting the last two chapters at the same time, so both Chapter 5 and Chapter 6 will be posted today.</p>
<p>A big thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls">dls</a> for beta-ing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“The receiver is working.  No one from base is answering.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Din reached out to stop the recording before the stormtrooper could say anything else.  Lying there, child asleep at his side, he tried to breathe through the sudden painful feeling that welled up in his chest.  He’d known something must have happened to the stormtrooper.  There was no other reason for his personal effects to have been left at the outpost.  But it had been different when it was just the abstract knowledge that five years ago something had gone wrong for an unknown enemy soldier.  Hearing the first inklings of real fear in a voice Din had been listening to daily for more than a month, a voice that lightened his heart and made the child smile, that was something else entirely.  </p>
<p>He picked up the datapad and scrolled through to the end of the directory.  Five recordings left, including the one he had been listening to.  Each of those audio files only a few minutes long compared to the man’s usual rambling recordings.  Not even fifteen minutes to chronicle the end of the stormtrooper’s stay here and Din felt a sense of loss at seeing such a short amount of time left.</p>
<p>Leaving the child to sleep, he eased out of the bottom bunk and walked into the main room, carefully closing the door to the living area behind him.  He didn’t turn on the overhead lights, only the faint glow from the small, dusty windows high on the outpost walls was left to illuminate the room.  It seemed appropriate for what was to come.</p>
<p>Din crossed the room and sat down cross-legged against the far wall, leaning back and closing his eyes as he rested the back of his helmet against the duracrete, listening to the distant howl of the storm’s dying winds.  Out of the warm nest of blankets the chill that the outpost’s heaters could never completely dispel quickly seeped through his layers of clothing.  He shivered.</p>
<p>Eventually Din sighed and opened his eyes, looking down and touching the screen of the datapad to bring its display back on.  He set the recording to play from the beginning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“The receiver is working.  No one from base is answering.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’ve been trying every communication frequency we have, and I’ve been at it for hours, but I’m not getting any kind of response.  The last round of storms was especially bad, maybe they had equipment problems too?  If that’s the case, they should have sent teams out to check in with all the outposts.  Where are they?  This is the most remote one, though.  Maybe they just haven’t reached here yet.  I’ll keep an eye on the cameras for approaching speeders just in case.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Din watched the datapad display as the time left in the recording ran out and the indicator skipped to the next file.  Four recordings left.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>“It’s been five days and base still isn’t responding to any of my transmissions.  No sign of speeders, either.  I’ve even been trying to reach some of the closer outposts, despite the crazy interference, and nothing.  What could have possibly happened?  Where is everyone?”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a sinking realization, Din checked the timestamp for the recording.  Ten days after the battle of Endor.  The Emperor had been defeated and the second Death Star destroyed all while the stormtrooper had been working on repairing his radio and complaining about terrible Imperial electronics.  The stormtrooper had no idea.  Many of the Empire’s bases in the Outer Rim were abandoned after Endor, millions of Imperial stormtroopers and other personnel either regrouping with fleets nearer the Core or deserting entirely.  How much effort would be made to retrieve one lone stormtrooper from a remote outpost while the Empire was in chaos?</p>
<p>Apparently none.</p>
<p>Three recordings left.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Two weeks since I fixed the receiver.  I’ve tried everything I can think of and still no contact.  Food and fuel are starting to run low.  I was already due for a resupply before all this.  I’m rationing what I have left, but that’s only going to last so long.  My only option left is to take what I can and try to make it to the base on foot.  Hopefully it won’t come to that.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>From what the stormtrooper had said in previous recordings, he had been stationed here alone during the height of the winter, just like them.  The base was over a hundred miles away through treacherous terrain.  It would be a difficult hike even with ample supplies and favorable weather.  The stormtrooper had none of that.  Din curled his hand into a fist and hissed through his teeth.</p>
<p>Two recordings left.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m down to my last few days of fuel.  Once that runs out I’m going to try for the base.  I’ve been going through the equipment, trying to put together a kit that will get me that far.  Packing the last of the rations.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m … I’m leaving my mom’s books here.  I can’t really afford the weight, and if I don’t make it I don’t want them to rot away in the middle of nowhere with me.  Maybe whoever finds them if I don’t make it back here will enjoy them.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hopefully, though, good luck will be with me.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One recording left.  Din bowed his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“The fuel ran out a few hours ago.  I’m packed up and ready to start for the base.  Just waiting for daybreak.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I don’t know if there’s anything left to say.  I’m not sure how to feel about the fact there’s probably no one who will even miss me if I don’t make it.  Mom’s gone.  So are Dee, Pat, and Drop.  Dad and Uncle Vecon will just be disappointed it wasn’t a more glorious death in service to the Empire.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>”I guess it’s been a good run.  Certainly enough good luck to get me this far.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The stormtrooper was silent for a few moments.  Then he drew in a deep breath and sighed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“This is Trooper CT-113 stationed at Choivun Base under Commander Horne.  If you’ve found this, then I never made it back.  Please send word to Imperial Officers Macero and Vecon Valentis that I did not survive.  You are welcome to any of the items found along with this datapad.  Please put them to good use.  This is CT-113 …. This is Corin Valentis, signing off.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The recording ended and Din let out a shuddering breath.  He sat there for long minutes until he pulled off his helmet and ran a hand roughly over his face and through his hair.  It was foolish to mourn a man gone five years.  It was even more foolish to mourn an enemy he’d never met and who wouldn’t have cared a whit for Din if he had.  Despite what he told himself, it still took him long minutes to bring himself under control.</p>
<p>Eventually Din dragged himself to his feet and pulled the helmet back on.  Suddenly weary, he opened the door into the living quarters only to find the child awake and looking towards him with lowered ears and concerned eyes.</p>
<p>“It’s nothing, Ad’ika,” he said, his voice still thick with emotion.  The child’s only response was a worried coo and to lift his arms up to be held.</p>
<p>Din sat on the bed next to the child, setting the datapad to the side before pulling the child into his arms.  It wiggled unhappily in his hold, unsatisfied, and reached upwards towards the face of Din’s helmet.  Din lowered his head until the small clawed hands could touch.</p>
<p>“What are you after, Womp Rat?” he asked softly.</p>
<p>The child warbled and touched its forehead carefully to the helmet’s faceplate.  Din breathed in surprise, then ran a gentle hand down the child’s back and pressed back against the child’s forehead with the slightest of pressure, throat suddenly tight.</p>
<p>“Yeah, Kiddo.  We’ve got each other, right?  It’ll be okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s another month before the weather began to warm and the time to move on approached.  Din collected the supplies that remained, moving them back into the Razor Crest with most of the stormtrooper’s, Corin’s, belongings carefully packed among them.  It didn’t seem right to leave them behind.  The only piece that wasn’t stored safely away was the small strip of knitted fabric they had found in Corin’s footlocker that the child insisted on wearing.</p>
<p>When the ship was ready, Din shut down everything in the outpost and sealed it with the upgraded electronic door lock he had installed.  He gave the building a final pat and walked away.  Adjusting the child’s carrier on his back, making the child giggle, he knew he had everything important with him.  He didn’t look back. </p>
<p>Before they left the planet, Din flew them to the main base.  It was as Din had expected, his blaster in hand as he walked the empty corridors.  The whole structure was stripped by scavengers of everything useful and nothing left to indicate whether the stormtrooper Corin had ever made it that far.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A big thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls">dls</a> for beta-ing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Corin sat wearily in a small tavern at the edge of the marketplace on a backwater planet, eating the simple meal of stew and bread he was lucky to still have the credits to afford.  He would need to find work again soon if he didn’t want to go hungry.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t had to skip out before getting paid from the last spaceship he’d found work on, but from the suspicious looks his fellow crewmembers had begun shooting him he’d known bad luck had found him and it was time to leave.  He’d slipped up a few times too many and being discovered as a former stormtrooper was a good way to find himself on the wrong side of an airlock.</p><p>Pushing away the empty bowl when he finished, he slumped forward with a sigh to lean his elbows on the small table and take a drink of the half mug of ale he had ordered with his meal.  The tavern, more tent than building, was open to the marketplace outside, the sturdy fabrics that made up its walls pulled apart to take advantage of the warm evening breeze blowing in across the arid landscape surrounding the town.  Corin watched the bustle of the street vendors and their patrons as they took advantage of the last hour of sunlight to settle their bargaining. </p><p>Running a hand over his tired eyes, he almost wept at the thought of having to start over yet again.  He was so exhausted. </p><p>He would always be grateful to the Rodain salvager team who’d stumbled on him, starved and half frozen, barely having survived the long trek to Choivun Base from Outpost 17.  By all rights they should have just shot him.  One of the hated stormtroopers, weakened and alone, was an easy target and more trouble alive than he was worth.   Nevertheless, they had helped him, dropping him off on the next inhabited planet with a change of clothes and a few credits in his pocket. </p><p>But sometimes, like now, he wondered if it wouldn’t have been better if they had just finished him off.</p><p>He’d spent the last five years hiding from his past, taking whatever jobs he could find and trying to stay under the radar of those hunting anyone once associated with the Empire.  It was hard unlearning the lifetime of training he’d had under his father and uncle, and then the Empire, working to rid himself of all the habits that could give him away.  The distinctive way a stormtrooper handled a blaster, the specialized style of hand-to-hand they’d learned in the Academy, a tendency to come to attention when addressed by a superior that a purely civilian crewmember would never have.  Constantly watching his back without anyone to trust was taking its toll.  He couldn’t imagine doing this for the rest of his life, but he had no idea what else he could do or where he could go.</p><p>He wouldn’t go back to the remnants of the Empire that had abandoned him, though.  Of that he was sure.</p><p>He took another sip of the ale while he leaned on the table, gently tapping the rucksack beneath the table with his foot to make sure it was still there.  He didn’t have much to his name, and the loss of his mother’s books on Choivun all those years ago still stung.  The salvagers’ good will in taking him in hadn’t extended to making a side trip to retrieve his things from the outpost.</p><p>All he needed was for someone to steal all his worldly possessions while he was busy bemoaning his bad luck.  That would just make the wreck of today complete. </p><p>Movement at the outskirts of the marketplace caught his eye and he looked up, distracting him from his melancholy thoughts.  There, just beyond the bustle of the main square, was a small child with large ears and wide black eyes in a rough homespun robe.  The tiny green being would barely come up to Corin’s knee and he couldn’t help but worry that the poor thing would be trampled by accident in the busy crowd.  Scanning the area, Corin couldn’t find anyone who matched what he imagined the child’s parents would look like.  He set enough credits on the table to cover the meal and ale and quickly stood up and slung his rucksack over his shoulder then walked the short distance to where the child was standing.  He felt his heart go out to the kid when he saw it had begun looking around worriedly, ears held low and eyes scared.</p><p>“Hey, Kiddo,” Corin said when he got close, hoping the child could understand him.  He kneeled down so as not to tower over the child and frighten it further.  “Are you lost?  Would you like some help finding your folks?” </p><p>The child stilled and stared up at him, ears perking up immediately.  Corin smiled at the sight.  That was ridiculously cute.</p><p>“It’s not safe for you out here all alone.  Did you wander off from your parents?  They must be frantic by now.”  Corin looked around again, but still couldn’t find any short green sentients who must be searching for the small being.</p><p>When he looked back down, the child had shuffled closer and was now smiling up at him, holding his pants leg in one tiny clawed hand.</p><p>He blinked.  “Well, you’re friendly, aren’t you?” he asked, bemused at how trusting and happy the child was with a complete stranger.  The child’s only response was another twitch of its ears and then to raise its arms to be picked up.  Corin paused at the gesture, but it really would be safer for the child if Corin held it so it wasn’t in danger of being kicked or stepped on.  He slowly reached down, and when the child didn’t object, he picked it up and held it to his chest.</p><p>“Okay, there?”  The child only giggled and reached up to gently pat at Corin’s cheeks.  “Well, alright then.  Let’s try to find your parents, how does that sound?”  He shifted the child in his arms to a slightly better position when it nodded and he started looking around the marketplace in earnest.</p><p>At first he stayed close to where he’d found the child, hoping the small being hadn’t wandered far from whoever was supposed to be caring for it.  When that didn’t net them any results, he started walking further into the main square in his search.  While he looked, Corin kept up a one-sided conversation with the child, smiling at the child’s rapt attention.</p><p>Finally, when Corin was just starting to really worry about whether or not he’d ever find whoever the child belonged to, the child began to squirm in his arms excitedly and point towards something behind Corin.</p><p>“Did you spot your folks?” he asked as he turned around, only to freeze when he saw a Mandalorian in full beskar armor stalking straight towards them. </p><p>Corin froze, his heart suddenly racing.  One of his old crewmates must have sold him out, let the bounty hunters know where to find him.  A Mandalorian.  Kriff.  He’d known there were bounties out for any Imperial troopers unlucky enough to get caught, but he hadn’t realized any of them were large enough to earn this kind of attention. </p><p>For a split second he considered running, ducking into the teaming marketplace and trying to lose himself in the crowd.  The Mandalorian was already reaching for his blaster, though, and an excited giggle from the child reminded him that he wasn’t alone.  He couldn’t allow the child to get hurt if the Mandalorian decided to fire at him while he was trying to escape.</p><p>Corin shifted the child to his left arm and turned so his body was between the child and the Mandalorian, holding his right arm up in a useless gesture to stop the oncoming threat that was almost on top of him.  The other patrons of the marketplace were quick to get out of the way.</p><p>“Stop!  Wait!  I’ll go with you, I won’t fight, I promise!  Just please don’t hurt the child!” he begged, desperate, and the Mandalorian stopped abruptly when Corin started talking.  Corin thanked his good luck, it looked like the other man was listening.</p><p>“Please, he’s lost, I was just trying to find where he belongs, he’s not a part of any of this.  Just let me put him down and I’ll come quietly, I swear.”  He could feel himself shaking with fear and adrenaline.</p><p>To Corin’s surprise, the Mandalorian slowly held up both hands to show they were empty, moving carefully like he thought Corin might spook. </p><p>“Corin?  Corin Valentis?”</p><p>Corin inhaled sharply.  “How…?” he asked, dumbfounded.  He hadn’t gone by his own name since he’d been rescued from Choivun.  How did this bounty hunter know who he was?  Was there a bounty on him specifically?  He wouldn’t be surprised that his father and uncle had made enemies that were looking for some retribution from the last Valentis.  Being caught for a general bounty on Imperials was bad luck enough but at least it promised a quick death.  If someone was looking for him by name, his death was much more likely to be drawn out and painful.</p><p>The Mandalorian didn’t seem to be in a hurry to bring him in, though.  He took a step closer but froze when Corin tensed.</p><p>“I’m not going to hurt you,” the Mandalorian said.  “I’m not after you at all.  The little womp rat wandered away while I was haggling for supplies.  I’ve been searching everywhere.  Thank you for looking after him.”  The voice was slightly modulated by his helmet, but he sounded sincere. </p><p>Corin was confused and suspicious, but when the Mandalorian made no further move to approach him he turned to face the other man fully, bringing the child into view.  He looked down, away from the Mandalorian, and the child looked back up at him.</p><p>“Is this who you belong to, Kiddo?” he asked a little shakily, still reeling at the realization he wasn’t about to be dragged away as the Mandalorian’s bounty.</p><p>The child smiled brightly and nodded, turning away to reach for the other man with both arms.  Hesitant, Corin held the child out and he relaxed somewhat as he watched the fearsome looking Mandalorian step closer to tenderly take the little creature and bring it to his side, all the while gently reprimanding it in a language Corin didn’t understand.  The child seemed unfazed, simply making a pleased trilling sound and pointing back at Corin.  His lips twitched into a smile at the Mandalorian’s long-suffering sigh.</p><p>The smile slid off his face when the Mandalorian looked up again after the child was settled and tilted his head as he regarded Corin carefully.  Corin waited nervously until the Mandalorian seemed to come to some decision.</p><p>“Corin?  I need to get this rancor fed, would you…like to sit with us for a bit?  I can buy you a drink, thank you for looking after my gremlin for me.” </p><p>The Mandalorian actually sounded <em>hesitant</em> and nothing about any of this made sense.  At a loss, he decided to address the most obvious first.  “How do you know my name?  How do you know me?”</p><p>The other man looked towards the child for a moment, then back up at Corin.</p><p>“I can explain,” he said after a long pause, and if Corin hadn’t reached his limit for confusion already, he’d have said the Mandalorian was <em>embarrassed</em>.</p><p>Corin looked at him helplessly.  He knew there was no love lost between the Empire and the Mandalorians, and if this man knew his name, he almost certainly knew he’d been a stormtrooper.  Why would he want anything to do with Corin?</p><p>When it looked like Corin might refuse, the Mandalorian held out his hand.  “Please, Corin,” he said quietly, and some quality in his voice convinced Corin to agree.  He nodded, and the Mandalorian carefully curled his hand around Corin’s elbow and led him back towards the tavern.</p><p>The Mandalorian’s hand was warm, and there was a gentleness in it that steadied Corin’s nerves.  The child smiled up at him from the crook of the Mandalorian’s arm and cooed in delight.  He quirked a smile back.  This was all incredibly strange, but he couldn’t shake the sudden feeling that good luck had finally found him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't post often, but I can be found here on <a href="http://arboreal-elm-ash-oak.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>. </p>
<p>I'd love to hear from you. Comments are food for the fic writer's soul. :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>